


The witchers' grapevine

by Ledgea



Series: The witchers' grapevine [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst in chapter eleven, Cat School (The Witcher), Crack Treated Seriously, Drabble Collection, Dubious consent in chapter eleven, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Underage prostitution mentioned in chapter eleven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledgea/pseuds/Ledgea
Summary: This one is going to be a collection of one-shots pertaining to my other stories "The witchers' stalker" and "The bard's daughter".It'll contain everything you ever wanted to know about gossiping witchers and never dared to ask.Beware of crack :D
Relationships: Aiden/Coën/Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert & Coën
Series: The witchers' grapevine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794697
Comments: 91
Kudos: 279
Collections: Polyamorous Relationships For the Win





	1. Truth or lie ?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the first chapter is set in spring just after the winter Jaskier spent in Kaer Morhen at the end of "The witchers' stalker".

"You're lying," Coën says to Lambert, disbelief clearly written on his face.

"I'm not," Lambert argues before taking a seep of his beer all the while glaring at his drinking companion.

Coën shakes his head and smiles wryly at his friend.

"You're trying to convince me that your brother, who according to you is - and I quote you here - the grumpiest grump who puts every grump of the continent to shame, looked for the Stalker and dropped unexpectedly in on him eight times last year. That's just not possible !"

"It is !", Lambert persists, "I don't know how he did it but it's the truth."

"You've got a bet with Aiden running ?"

"No ! Okay, yes, I have but it doesn't have anything to do with it. I swear it's the truth on... on your beard !"

"You hate my beard," deadpans Coën.

"Yes, but you like it !"

"That's not how it works," sighs Coën while he pinches the bridge of his nose, "Now stop trying to convince me that your team is winning the "Stalk the Stalker" game with your lies or I'll find a way to pass a motion so that the Wolf school team will have to start with minus five points in the score."

"You can't do that," splutters Lambert angrily, "that would put us behind the Cranes !"

His last angry shout garners them a mean glare from the barkeep and some barmaids hurry out of the dining hall, disappearing in the kitchen.

"Calm the fuck down, you prick, or you'll get us thrown out. And exactly, that'll teach you to follow the rules and the value of honesty when dealing with your friends."

Lambert just glares at his companion, leans against the wall behind him and crosses his arms over his chest. He starts to sulk. Coën rolls his eyes at him.

"So, what's the other thing you wanted to tell me ? You said you had two exciting news... Come on," the Griffin cajoles the Wolf, "unless it's false too."

"You know what, my friend," Lambert leans forward with a mocking smile on his face, "I learnt the Stalker's name over winter but I'm not in a sharing mood anymore."

Coën's smile turns smug.

"Oh, I know that the Stalker turned out to be Jaskier the famous bard. I saw Aiden over winter."

"For fuck's sake !", Lambert curses loudly.

The Wolf witcher scowls at the Griffin, finishes his drink in one last big gulp and gets up to leave. He crashes his hip violently on the table and Coën's drink is knocked over by the movement.

"You're a real piece of shit, you know", the Griffin yells after Lambert who doesn't bother to turn back and raises his hand in a crude gesture. "By the way," Coën continues, "Aiden told me that he was headed to Kovir this year if you're interested !"

Lambert doesn't answer the other witcher and heads out of the door. Coën shakes his head fondly after him and orders another drink that he'll finally be able to enjoy in peace.


	2. The cats are jackasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cats are jackasses or how the rules about motions' validation in the grapevine came to be!

“You know,” ponders Mal, the leader of the Caravan of the Cats, one evening, “if we play this right, we could add a few fun motions to the grapevine. After all, there clearly is more than three of us so we could easily second each other's motions.”

“Oh, that's a wonderful idea,” interjects Jayn, “I want every witcher from another school than the Cat to offer us a beer and a meal when they come across any one of us !”

“Seconded !”, is yelled from two different points of the Caravan.

“If one of us arrives at an inn and another witcher has already booked a room, they have to offer it to us”, adds Del from his spot next to a fire.

  
  


The several “seconded” that follow come from at least four different witchers and Mal smiles and shakes his head fondly at his brothers' antics.

  
  


“I want the others to offer us back rubs”, Pierre says decisively.

  
  


“And foot rubs too,” Mal adds with a shit-eating grin.

  
  


The multiple “seconded” that follow are so loud that a few birds leave their trees in fright.

  
  


“Make them pay for a day at the brothel for us too,” Jayn continues.

  
  


“Seconded !”, the motion is approved unanimously and enthusiastically.

  
  


“I want them to give me some apple pie. I love apple pies !”, Aiden says next whistfully.

  
  


And his brothers second his motion, because they maybe were waiting for something funnier or more dramatic to be added to the list but they are nothing if not supportive of each other's quirks. And if Aiden wants apple pies then he'll get some apple pies.

* * *

Letho is getting gloriously drunk with Lambert in a decrepit tavern in the middle of Aedirn and is sharing the latest news he got with the Wolf.

  
  


“And the fucking Cats want back rubs and foot rubs now ! Say that their motions are legit because they were proposed and seconded by three different people in total, I say fuck them and their stupid weird requests.”

  
  


Lambert hums and then corrects his drinking companion with a mean smile, “ _I_ say that every cat should go fuck a Bruxa. And then go get fucked by an archespore.”

  
  


“I totally second that one,” Letho says and raises his tankard to give a toast to Lambert's wonderful idea.

  
  


When Lambert meets Ivo of the school of the Bear a few weeks later, he hastens to share his motion with him to get it seconded again. The other witcher doesn't bat an eye at his idea and endorses it wholeheartedly.

* * *

When Coën hears about the stupidity brewing in the grapevine, he decides that some rules need to be implemented to try to control the chaos that is spreading. Emphasis on _try_ , he knows his brethrens, he won't be able to suppress all the stupidity but he can curb it a little, maybe.

  
  


After all, he doesn't want to have to go fuck a Bruxa or to have to go get fucked by an archespore the next time he pisses Lambert off and two other idiots decide to second his new motions. And he is sure that he isn't the only witcher in that case.

  
  


So he drags Heyn, who brought him the latest news, to the nearest witcher they can find. They are forced to travel together for a month before they stumble upon a harried looking Auckes.

  
  


“I'm trying to avoid a Cat here,” the Viper tells them looking around the tavern they are in suspiciously, “damn fucker wants me to give him a foot massage and he won't stop following me !”

  
  


“So,” Coën starts firmly, “we might need to implement some rules here because it's starting to get ridiculous. I suggest that, from now on, to validate a motion, it has to be proposed by a witcher and seconded by two others who _all come from different schools_. That should help with the foolishly stupid motions.”

  
  


The Griffin then hums and adds firmly, “And we forget about every motions passed before this one. And a motion can only concern the gossip part of the grapevine. And it has to be non threatening”

  
  


The Griffin lets out a sigh and asks his companions, “Did I miss something ?”

  
  


“I don't think so,” Heyn answers him, “and I second your motion.”

  
  


Auckes follows suit and they get drunk together to celebrate what feels like a victory. Coën still broods a little and asks himself why must _he_ always be the responsible one ? All of this policing is starting to get exhausting and he fears that he might develop a permanent headache. He hates his brethrens sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Cats! I made them weirdly scary and that's how I like them :D


	3. Awkward meeting

Eskel is sitting in a shitty tavern with a leaking roof in Redania nursing a beer when he sees another witcher entering the establishment. The man is dripping wet, shakes himself on the doorstep and heads to the bar to order a meal, it looks like.

  
  


The woman tending the bar points her finger in Eskel's direction, and he sees the other witcher look at him and head in his direction. The Wolf now knows about the grapevine, thanks to Lambert, but he is still surprised when the witcher, a Viper, takes a chair and comes to sit with him. Eskel completely freezes. The Viper looks at him in silence for a moment and nods in thanks at the woman who brings him a bowl of stew and an ale.

  
  


He swallows a mouthful of stew and starts to speak when he notes that Eskel is starting to squirm in his seat and still hasn't said a word.

  
  


“So, you're a wolf. Lambert's brother, right ? Eskel ?”

  
  


Eskel can only nod dumbly and scratches at his scars absently. The man doesn't offer his name and Eskel wonders if he is supposed to guess too. Lambert might know all the witchers but Eskel sure as hell doesn't, and he's not in a mood for a brawl if the man takes offense if his guess turns out to be incorrect. So he stays quiet and takes a small sip of his drink every thirty seconds, he's counting the intervals in his head.

  
  


The silence is starting to get uncomfortable and Eskel doesn't know how to breach it. He's not sure that talking about the weather would be an improvement over the quiet, and he has nothing he wants to share with an unfamiliar witcher. The Viper finishes his meal, sits back on his chair and looks at him weirdly.

  
  


“Are you mute ?”, he asks him slowly with a frown on his face.

  
  


Eskel should deny it but he's counting seconds in his head and reaches twenty-five and doesn't really want to begin a conversation with the other witcher so he just nods stupidly. And then drinks another sip of his beer when he reaches thirty.

  
  


The Viper narrows his eyes at him and lets out a long sigh. It takes Eskel a minute to realize that he just confirmed that he can't speak. He despairs internally. Why did he have to nod ? Why can't he be more charming ? Or even normal ? He's not so clumsy usually. He finishes his beer exactly three minutes later and fiddles with his empty glass. He holds out three more minutes before he can't take the silence anymore.

  
  


“So, weather's nice ?”

  
  


And he blushes two seconds after opening his mouth. The Viper just snorts at him and looks pointedly at the puddle next to their table, which continues to grow steadily because the roof is still leaking rain water right next to them.

  
  


Eskel is so embarrassed by his blunder that he gets up quickly, bumps in the table in his hurry and trips over his own feet on his way out of the inn. He hears the Viper's laugh all the way to the stables. He saddles his horse and heads out of the village under the heavy rain. He's better off continuing to avoid other witchers, he decides. And he really hopes that the story of this encounter is never going to reach Lambert's ears.

* * *

It takes two years for Lambert to hear about the meeting. He takes great pleasure in informing Eskel that he met Serrit, and that the Viper told the other witchers that he thought that the Wolf was addled. Eskel blushes and splutters when he hears that last statement. The mocking laugh of Lambert follows Eskel all winter throughout the keep, and he learns that even if he tries to beat his brother black and blue, it doesn't stop his taunts and his tiresome habit of sneering at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love awkward Eskel :p


	4. Jaskier's song 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cat shenanigans!!

When Mal rejoins the Caravan a month after leaving on a contract, he finds utter chaos. Jayn, who he left in charge, has decided to set the Caravan near the sea between three decently sized villages. The villagers apparently took offense to that fact and decided to bribe the Cats in hope that they would up and leave.

It had the complete opposite effect. His travel companions are taking bets about bribes and are fighting over apple pies slices that are to die for apparently. Mal is just relieved that it didn't occur to the villages to band together to attack them. The witchers are good but even they would have trouble fighting against three villages' men.

So when he comes back, he finds Aiden, stuck in the highest tree in the vicinity, hoarding apple pies while three of their brothers try to steal them from him and a new cart ladden with cloth, flour sacks, some potatoes, fresh beans and even a wine barrel. A pig is being roasted over a fire and what he really hopes is a whore – otherwise the clothing is utterly improper - is making himself comfortable in the middle of the witchers' camp. He wonders if it was such a good idea to take that contract and leave the Caravan alone for a month.

"Jayn ! What the fuck happened here ?", he growls at his second when he spots him near the pig.

"Oh, Mal ! You're back ! Everyone, Mal's back !"

A few witchers stop what they are doing to wave at him but he is mostly ignored. Jayn then explains to him how this clusterfuck came to be and Mal orders for the camp to be taken down immedialy. He has to contend with several vocal complaints and it is finally decided that they wouldn't leave before tomorrow to have the time to eat the damn pig and for Aiden to come down from his tree. Mal shakes his head and ponders the idea to begin a solo career, it would probably be less ridiculous.

He learns that the Caravan met the Stalker again a week before his return and that the man is, in fact, Jaskier the bard. Yes, the one who composed the stupid helpful song. He is astonished at the news and weirdly disappointed that he missed the man.

In the morning, Mal has to rouse his companions at dawn with some well placed kicks. He fights with his brothers about the whore who, despite his orders, ends up ladden in a cart and brought along on their journey. They abandon Aiden in his tree because he doesn't want to get down with his two remaining apple pies. Mal raises his arms to the sky in exasperation and yells at everyone until everything is ready. They depart two hours after the sun came up and head north.

It doesn't take them long to realize that something is weird. When they come across people, they point at them, whisper behind their hands and laugh at them. They do not take kindly to the mockery and a few travellers end up dumped in ditches with a few nasty bruises.

It is Jayn who finally discovers what this is all about. He comes back from a village, where he went to look for a contract, two weeks after their departure, with the news that the bard passed through here with another witcher a while ago.

Mal then orders the Caravan to head east because if another witcher went north, they will not find new contracts there. And as they force the horses and the carts to change direction, Jayn comes up to him and clears his throat.

“I know what all the pointing is about.”

Mal hums and waves his hands at him to continue.

“So the bard passed through here and he sang a new song. A new song that says that witchers' seed can make trees bloom and fields give twice as many crops as in a normal year.”

“Witchers' seed ?”, asks Mal dubiously, he raises an eyebrow and throws a pointed glance at Jayn's crotch

“Yes, it's totally what you are thinking about,” says Jayn with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, why ? Why the fuck did he think that this would be a _good_ idea ?”

And he may be whining a little but no one will ever bring it up if they know what is good for their health. Jayn scratches his head and answers slowly :

“Well, you know how we told you that the bard was brought to us as an offering ? Did we explain to you why the villages were trying to bribe us ?”

“To make you leave,” Mal grunts with a wrong feeling.

“Well yeah but they wanted us to leave because they thought that our presence would make their crops wilt and their fruits rot. And Jaskier was clearly annoyed by being brought to us bound as a sacrifice so I think that he did it to fight these stupid rumors.”

“And people believe this crap ?”, Mal asks with disbelief clear in his voice.

“I don't think so,” Jayn says thoughtfully, “they mostly find the story funny. Even if I saw one or two people looking thoughtfully at me.”

“You know that everything could have been easily avoided if you had just gone away,” Mal says while pinching his nose.

“Yeah but it was fun watching the humans squirm !”

“I hate you. I'm never leaving you in charge of the Caravan again. And you, Pierre, stop making doe eyes at the fucking whore and steer your damn carriage correctly, you shit head !”

And as Mal tries to organize the Caravan into something looking more or less like an orderly convoy, he vows to never leave those stupid good for nothing fuckers alone again. Clearly they need constant supervision.

And he hopes that that damn new song will soon be forgotten and that nobody will take it seriously in the meantime. And the next time he'll see the bard, Mal will shake his hand to thank him for _Toss a coin_ and then break his nose for this new monstruosity of a song. It'll only be justice, he muses while a predatory smile appears on his face.


	5. Jaskier's song 2

It takes a few years for Jaskier's song to spread across the continent but spread it does. People tend to laugh at it and take it as a joke but the rumor that witchers make crops wilt starts to reach Jaskier's hears less and less so he still takes it as a win. Geralt still glares and scowls heavily each and every time Jaskier sings it but he doesn't try to stop him from sharing it anymore.

And eight years after he first came up with the song, Geralt and Jaskier stumble upon a small town in Lyria where people accost the witcher in the streets at every turn to shake his hand. Some men even clap him on the shoulder and a few women openly wink and glance appreciatively at him. Jaskier is a bit jealous of the attention his friend receives, if he is being honest.

Geralt is suspicious about the very kind welcome he gets and his suspicion doesn't lessen when Jaskier bullies him into entering a tavern and the witcher is offered a free drink by the barkeep. Jaskier has to pay for his and he glares at the owner when he joins Geralt at his table. The witcher is sniffing his wine glass carefully and when he's satisfied by his investigation, he takes a slow sip of it.

"Fuck !", he then exclaims.

"What ? Is it poisoned ? Are you well ?", Jaskier asks already panicking.

"It's the good stuff. The _very_ good stuff."

"He gave _you_ a glass of good wine ?", Jaskier rants, "Why did I have to pay for mine ? Life's so unfair. Did you save the mayor of the town or something in the past ?"

"Not that I can remember. I'm clearing this up, wait here."

Jaskier watches Geralt stalk to the bar and he sees him adress the barkeep with an impassive face, which is better than the scowl he usually reserves for strangers, Jaskier thinks. He then steals the witcher's wine glass and shit, it really _is_ the good stuff. He sips at it slowly and watches Geralt from his place.

  
  


He can see his friend's profile and spots a blush appearing on his cheeks and oh, everything that makes the witcher blush has to be forth knowing. Jaskier debates going up to the bar too but chooses to finish the wine, he won't have another chance to drink such a fine wine for a while.

Geralt comes back to their table with cheeks still slightly pink, a loaf of bread and some cheese. Jaskier makes grabby hands at the food and the witcher deposits everything in the middle of the table. The bard doesn't wait a second before swallowing a large slice of the freshly baked bread. He lets out a contented sigh because the food truly is delicious.

"That a gift too ?", he mumbles around his mouthful.

Geralt nods and glares at the food like it offended him.

"Yous should try it. The bread is still warm from the oven. Come on, the food didn't do anything to you !"

The witcher finally takes a slice of bread and a piece of cheese and eats it slowly. He's relishing it, Jaskier notes.

"So, what did the barkeep say to you that got you blushing so handsomely ?", Jaskier asks with a grin.

"Fuck off !", Geralt growls at him.

Jaskier just continues to smile at the witcher while he nibbles on cheese and drinks his friend's wine. Geralt steals his ale in retaliation and when the bard just continues to stare at him, he crosses his arms over his chest defensively and scowls.

  
  


When Jaskier has eaten his fill, he pushes the cheese and bread at Geralt and the witcher finishes everything in a few minutes. He then gets up, grips the back of Jaskier's doublet and drags him to the door.

"What ? Geralt ! Where are we going ?"

"We're going to check the village's orchard now."

"Why ?"

Geralt doesn't answer him, takes Roach's reins in his hands and walks towards the edge of the town. Jaskier follows him. The people wave at them and continue to accost them to shake Geralt's hand. When they approach the outskirts, the townspeople stop to stare and point at them. It unnerves Jaskier a bit. Geralt scowls even harder.

  
  


When they arrive at the orchard, the trees are thriving. Every last one of them sports a truly considerable amount of fruits, their leaves are green and there isn't a single dead tree. The wind is whistling softly and Jaskier can hear the sound of a stream nearby. This place is so calm, he thinks, unnaturally calm.

  
  


When he looks at Geralt, his friend has his eyes closed and a hand on his medallion. There is a frown on his face. Jaskier lets him be and wanders further into the orchard. All the trees are flourishing.

After a few minutes, he finds the most magnificient tree of the orchard. It's a massive pear tree sporting an unholy amount of fruits. Its branches are hanging low but the tree is sturdy enough that they won't break.

Jaskier plucks a pear from the tree and it is the tastiest fruit he has ever eaten. He eats a second one immediately after finishing the first and offers one to Geralt when he joins him. The witcher looks at the pear weirdly and gives it to Roach who munches on it eagerly. Jaskier chokes a little.

“What ? Are they poisonned ?”

“No,” is Geralt's curt answer.

“Then what ? Will you finally explain yourself ?”, Jaskier asks exasperated.

“The bar owner asked me if I was interested in renewing the blessing on the orchard.”

Jaskier lets out a small laugh.

“By blessing, you mean ... ?”

“Jacking off to a bunch of trees. Yes.

“Oh, sweet Melitele that is wonderful. Did he offer payment too ?”, Jaskier asks with a shit-eating grin.

“He did,” Geralt confirms seriously, “and he wanted to know if I was amenable to allow an audience to be present while I ... perform.”

Geralt announces the facts with such a disgruntled face that Jaskier can't stop the laugh that escapes him.

“Oh, Gods, that is truly the best story I've heard lately,” Jaskier says between giggles, “but wait you say renew as in...”

Geralt lets out a long suffering sigh and rubs his temples.

“Yes. Apparently there was a drought last year and when in desperation, the villagers asked a witcher to bless their trees, the man did it against remuneration and since then the orchard is flourishing.”

“Oh ! It gets even better ! But how did he manage the flourishing part ? I mean, as far as I know, it was only a rumor that I created.”

“The orchard is enchanted. My best guess is that he got a spell from a sorcerer, did his... deed against that pear tree, that's where the spell seems to be the strongest, and then left the enchantment on the whole orchard to make it look like he really offered a blessing to the trees.”

“How do you know that he really did... perform?”, Jaskier wonders, “he may just have placed the enchantment without anything else.”

  
  


“The barkeep told me,” Geralt says with a grimace, “he had two witnesses with him.”

  
  


“Witnesses ?”, Jaskier asks dubiously.

  
  


“Well, help really. People volunteered for the job.”

  
  


“Oh Gods, he spent a very good moment with gorgeous attendants, got paid for it and now the orchard is thriving. I'm going back into town, I want to know more ! I need to know more ! That'll end up in a song !”

  
  


Geralt sighs again, catches Jaskier by the back of his doublet and drags him towards Roach. He then pushes the bard up in the saddle and leads the horse in the opposite direction of the town. Jaskier whines and tries to get down but Geralt prevents him from moving and walks at a steady pace towards the end of the orchard. Jaskier slumps in defeat in the saddle.

  
  


Unfortunately for the witcher, they encounter some people at the other side of the orchard who beam at them. They accost Geralt, offer him fruits and ask about the blessing. Geralt has his mouth full so Jaskier takes it upon himself to answer.

  
  


“Fear not, dear people, the blessing has been vigorously and scrupulously renewed by your humble servant Geralt of...”, the rest of the sentence is lost behind his friend's hand, which he clamps hard over the bard's mouth after getting up behind him in the saddle in a hurry.

  
  


The townspeople thank them merrily nonetheless and promise to spread the tale of the blessing as far and as wide as they can. And when Jaskier turns back his head to look at Geralt behind him, his features are contorted in such an expression of horror that the bard can't help but giggle.

  
  


The sounds he makes are still muffled by the witcher's hand over his mouth, which doesn't prevent him from waving enthusiastically at the townspeople, even as Geralt orders Roach to make a run for it. Jaskier is a bit disappointed that his friend won't let him go back to the town, because he wants to know the name of the first witcher - the man has to be a genius – but he is sure that he can compose a song worthy of admiration with the details he possesses nevertheless. And he can always embelish the story if he finds it lacking, he's a bard after all.

* * *

It takes two years for the story to reach Lambert's ears. Geralt hasn't even set foot in the keep yet, he's still taking care of Roach, when he hears his brothers' hurried footsteps, he's the last to arrive this year. Lambert and Eskel stop at the entrance of the stables and lean each on a side of the door with shit-eating grins. Geralt has a bad feeling.

  
  


“So,” Lambert begins without even greeting him properly, “I hear that you're humping trees now.”

  
  


“Oh, fuck off, Lambert,” he snarls at his brother before storming out of the stables.

  
  


He elbows his younger brother harshly in the ribs when he passes by him and glares fiercely at Eskel. It doesn't stop them from erupting into peals of laughter and Geralt leaves the two assholes with a last rude gesture thrown behind him. They're not worth it, he thinks for himself, it's not worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jaskier's song continues to cause trouble.


	6. At Vesemir's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece to chapter 4 of The bard's daughter !

Vesemir is in the middle of Temeria, clearing a cave of three fleders. As soon as the last monster looses his head, he extends all of his senses to make sure that none survived. To his surprise, he hears a soft breathing sound and goes deeper into the cave with his sword still raised in front of him.

He ends up in another cavity and spots bones on the ground. He steps into the new cave, walks on the bones that turn to dust beneath his feet, and heads for the farthest corner from the entrance where the sound is coming from.

He widens his eyes in the darkness and spots a dark shape slowly breathing. He extends his sword but the lump doesn't react to the touch of the blade. Vesemir frowns and bends down, he touches the shape and is surprised to find a smooth neck with a slow but steady heartbeat under his fingertips.

He pats the lump before him, grabs one of its arms and slings the person over his shoulders. He grunts under the weight and heads for the entrance of the cave. He keeps his senses on alert but doesn't detect another creature and lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches the forest again.

He deposits his cargo, who turns out to be a young man, under a tree and goes back to his horse to fetch his waterskin. He opens it and slowly pours water in the man's mouth who starts coughing. Vesemir feels his head and finds an ugly bump that he cleans, before washing the blood and mud from the man's face.

The witcher then goes back into the caves, collects a monster's head and burns their remains. He then makes his way out again, ties the head to his horse saddle and takes a stand next to the still unconscious man.

When he finally hears the man's breath quicken, Vesemir takes a few steps back and waits for his guest to wake up. It's a slow process. The man blinks several times, winces and his hands go up to the bump at the back of his head before he squints at Vesemir.

“Uh,” he says, “You're a witcher.”

Vesemir rolls his eyes as the man states the obvious and rummages in his saddlebags to find some dried meat to offer to him.

“Yes,” he says and hands the meat and his waterskin to the man who accepts the items with a smile, “I'm Vesemir, a witcher of the School of the Wolf. I saved you from some fleders.”

“Oh, so that is what they were ! Then I thank you, master witcher ! But I'm afraid that I don't have anything to repay you with.”

“No need for you to offer me a reward,” Vesemir says and shakes his head, “The alderman from the nearest village issued a contract for the monsters and I already was promised a good sum.”

“But I insist, master witcher,” the man says and gets up slowly, “After all, you just saved my life !”

“There's really no need,” the witcher argues.

“Maybe the law of ...”

“NO !”, Vesemir interrupts him abruptly, “No, thank you mister... ?”

“Jan.”

“Then no, thank you, master Jan, I have everything that I need,” Vesemir says and goes back to his horse. “I can bring you down to the village, if you want ?”, he offers.

Jan nods and follows Vesemir down the hill where the cave is located. The man is stumbling behind the witcher's horse and Vesemir has to steady him a few times lest he falls and breaks his neck. When they arrive at the edge of the town, Vesemir turns back to the man he saved and nods at him.

“I'm heading to the alderman, then. I wish you a long and fruitful life, master Jan.”

“And I thank you for your help, master witcher,” Jan says respectfully, “But I can't decently let you leave without a reward ! Maybe a free meal at the inn ? I just recently acquired it, it won't be any trouble ! Or do you require a room for the night perhaps ?”

Vesemir furrows his brows and contemplates this man, it's rare that he finds someone willing to offer him room and board for free. He's tempted to stay the night but decides against it lest he finds the illusion of friendship shattering quickly. In his experience, these feelings never last long where witchers are concerned.

“No, thank you. I must take my leave quickly.”

“Then allow me to rename my inn _At the Wolf's_ in honour of your school ! You'll always be welcome when you travel across Temeria !”

“That's... I can't accept that,” Vesemir splutters, “You don't need to do that !”

The man frowns at him and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then I'll name my establishment _At Vesemir's_ and I won't hear another word about it ! That's decided ! And of course, you and your brothers will always be welcome in my home, I swear it on my name.”

“That's a very kind offer, master Jan,” Vesemir says, “And I can't insist enough that you shouldn't feel obligated to follow through your decision in any way. I didn't save you for a reward !”

“And I would feel horribly bad if I didn't show you my appreciation properly, master witcher. I'll never be able to thank you enough for saving my life.”

Vesemir then watches him leave after they exchange friendly farewells and wonders if the man will keep his word. He doubts it. Vesemir shakes his head and goes to see the alderman to collect his payment.

* * *

Vesemir never forgets about Jan or his promise. He usually avoids this part of Temeria in his travels, because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he inevitably finds out that the man broke his promise. But he still remembers it nevertheless.

And six years later, he's in the village's vicinity again and decides to check in the inn. The village hasn't changed much and he finds Jan's establishment easily. He stares in amazement at the inn's sign that reads _At Vesemir's_ for a few minutes before shaking his head and dismounting. He didn't expect that.

He ties his horse to a post next to the inn's door and enters the establishment warily. He only takes four steps inside before Jan recognizes him and comes up to him with a big smile on his face to shake his hand. He then introduces him to his wife and his two children and sits him at a table next to the fire.

Jan's wife thanks him warmly for saving her husband and places a steaming bowl of stew with a tankard full of their best beer in front of him. She then assures him that he won't have to pay for anything and squeezes his shoulder as she leaves him to go back to the bar.

Jan joins him with his youngest son half way through his meal and tells him about the latest gossip in the village and the new stable that he plans to add at the front of his inn in a few months. When he finishes his stew, Jan calls for two slices of pie to be brought to them and they share their dessert in companionable conversation.

It's one of the weirdest meals of Vesemir's life but he can't say that he hates it. Jan is polite, friendly and acts like they are old friends. He even plops his young son on Vesemir's knees at the end of the meal and then proceeds to tell him how the witcher saved his life. Vesemir finds the tale heavily embellished but doesn't correct the innkeeper and decides to enjoy the warm welcome this family is gifting him.

It takes a few decades but word goes around the grapevine after Letho saves the third generation of the family. Witchers soon learn that an inn exists in Temeria, where they can find comfort and where they'll be welcome with open arms. And little by little, witchers become more familiar with the family owning the inn and Jan's descendants never forget their forebear promise and they keep honoring it.


	7. Winter invitation

After Letho takes the kid away, Lambert can't stop thinking about what Fiona said about marriage. And he considers introducing Aiden to the pricks that pass as his family. Because apparently, if he wants to be married for real, his brothers and his mentor need to know. And he won't ever admit it out loud, but he maybe would like to be able to call Aiden his husband too.

  
  


With his mind made up, he turns back two days after leaving the Cat and goes after him. It takes him four days to catch up to him. Lambert sees Aiden's eyes widen when he spots him and his lover immediately comes up to him and hovers. He takes him in and squeezes his arms.

  
  


“I'm not hurt,” Lambert growls at him.

  
  


“Then what are you doing here ? We weren't supposed to see each other again before next summer,” Aiden says with a concerned face.

  
  


Lambert opens his mouth and then closes it again. He averts his eyes and glares at the ground. He doesn't know how to ask Aiden if he even wants to go to Kaer Morhen with him this winter, and doesn't want to appear clingy or for his request to be denied. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _fuck, I didn't think this through_.

  
  


When he looks back at the Cat, Aiden has his arms crossed over his chest and is smirking at him. Lambert shoulders past him without a word and Aiden wordlessly starts to accompany him. It takes him an hour before he breaks. He can't bear the silence anymore.

  
  


“Would you like to come to Kaer Morhen with me ?”, he asks and adds between gritted teeth, “This winter.”

  
  


“What brought this on ?”, Aiden frowns at him.

  
  


Lambert stops abruptly and scrubs his hands over his face. He mumbles an answer behind his hands and Aiden asks him to speak more clearly with a smile on his stupid face.

  
  


“According to the kid, we're not really married because my family doesn't know about us”, he rasps, “And I know that you'd like to be introduced to them so...”

  
  


Lambert shrugs and when he looks back at Aiden, his smile has disappeared and his lover is frowning at him.

  
  


“I don't want you to do it just for my benefit. It won't be pleasant if you feel like... like you _have to_ do it and not like you _want to_.”

  
  


“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Lambert exclaims angrily, “Just say yes you stupid mosshead, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to do it ! Would have thought that you knew me better than that by now ! And stop beaming at me, you're being creepy, asshole !”, he rants.

  
  


“I'd be delighted to accompany you to your home, darling. It'll be my pleasure.”

  
  


Lambert allows his lips to pull up into the tiniest of smiles and lets himself be manhandled into a tight embrace. He missed the Cat, he realizes, even if they have been parted for only six days. But he'll have all winter to spoil and to enjoy him. If they don't tear each other's throats out. If the other wolves will allow a Cat to enter their den. If they manage to stay alive until winter. If... His worried musings are interrupted when Aiden kisses him and he lets himself bask in the moment.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They spend the rest of the summer and the beginning of autumn apart and reconvene next to Ard Carraigh. The air is chilly now and there's mist most of the mornings. Snow doesn't fall yet but it's a matter of weeks before it arrives.

  
  


Aiden lets himself be lead north and Lambert frets all the way to the keep. He doesn't know how his family will react and it makes him nervous. He doesn't know what he'll do if Vesemir refuses to offer shelter to Aiden for the winter. Well he knows that he'll go back down the mountain with the Cat, but he doesn't know if he'll ever want to come back.

  
  


And a large part of him hates Kaer Morhen fiercely, but the old fortress became something like a home these past years. He'll be loathe to loose a secure winter shelter too. And he feels like he is owed a part of the keep. He bled in it and trained in it and was changed by it and he hates it sometimes, but he pushed past everything and he became a wolf witcher anyway and is walking his Path, and so the keep is also _his_ and he can damn well invite whoever he wants to share it !

  
  


It's his due, he tells himself vehemently over their days of travel. He practices his speeches to convince Vesemir to let Aiden stay, and the ones he'll deliver if they are forced to leave, just in case. Aiden doesn't comment on his sour mood and just stays close to him. The Cat lets him initiate bar brawls and doesn't step in until they have to leave before the guards are called. He seems to understand that Lambert needs to let his frustration out one way or another.

  
  


Lambert spent so much time imagining all the ways this encounter could go wrong that he's not prepared for what really happens when they reach the keep. It's all fucking anticlimatic, if you ask him.

  
  


The gates of the keep are open and they enter the courtyard with all of their senses on alert. They can't hear a damn noise. The stables are empty when they settle Lambert's horse in it, so none of his brothers are here yet, but Vesemir's mount isn't here either and the Wolf frowns at the empty stalls.

  
  


The bellow Lambert lets out when they enter the keep doesn't get any answer either. They leave their packs in the hallway and unsheathe their swords because they don't know what they'll find. Lambert takes the lead and they head for the kitchen first.

  
  


He pushes the door open and takes a long sniff when he enters. No blood, no piss, no shit, everything's almost normal except the hearth is cold and there's no hot meal prepared for them by Vesemir.

  
  


“Lambert,” Aiden calls, “I think that you might like to read this. I found it on the table.”

  
  


Lambert stalks back to Aiden and rips the parchment from his hands. He snarls as he reads it because it is written in Vesemir's hand and adressed to him and his brothers. The old man informs them that he left the keep so that he can enjoy a peaceful winter for once. He says that he'll come back in spring and that he is looking forward to see them all next year.

  
  


_That's bullshit_ , Lambert thinks and rips the piece of parchment to shreds.

  
  


“Ah, I wouldn't have done that,” Aiden comments from where he is leaning on the table with a smile on his face.

  
  


Lambert only grunts and stalks out of the kitchen to search the rest of the keep. Better be safe than sorry.

  
  


“Lambert !”, Aiden shouts and scrambles after him, “Did you see the other side of the parchment ? The one where there was a list of tasks ? Because I don't think that I can remember them all now that the parchment is scattered in tiny little pieces on the floor. And I'm not doing a puzzle with it !”

  
  


“If the old man wanted us to perform tasks over winter, he should have been here to tell us !”, Lambert rants while he stalks upstairs.

  
  


“Oh ! You're angry. Angry that he isn't here ?”

  
  


“I'm not !”

  
  


And yes, maybe he is angry at Vesemir for not being here. He spent weeks, even months, preparing himself for this encounter and the old man isn't even able to be present for it. Of course he's angry, it's a... a... a mark of disrespect. And okay, sure, he didn't send word ahead but he didn't think that he had to, the old Wolf never leaves the keep usually.

  
  


“It still leaves your brothers,” Aiden says in a soothing voice, “They're bound to arrive in a few days.”

  
  


Lambert stops abruptly in the middle of the stairs and Aiden walks straight into his back.

  
  


“Ouch. Lambert, darling, can you just calm down a bit, please ?”

  
  


“You're right,” Lambert sighs, “The fucking tossers are going to arrive soon. And I can introduce you to them.”

  
  


He takes Aiden's right hand in his and squeezes it tightly because he is now trying to imagine everything that could go wrong with Geralt or Eskel.

  
  


“Stop fretting,” Aiden laughs, “And come on, we have a keep to inspect before we can finally eat. And I'm starving so get to it. Are there rooms in this corridor ?”

  
  


Lambert smiles, steals a kiss and drags Aiden further into the keep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The Wolf's mood turns sourer in the two weeks they spend alone at the keep. The first snow arrives three days into the second week and none of his brothers come home. Not. One. Of. Them. He hates them. For once that he has something truly important to share with them, they can't be bothered to come home.

  
  


His frustration is taken out on the training dummies and that one bear that he completely butchers during a hunting trip. Aiden mostly lets him stew in his feelings and brood when he feels like it, even if he insists about sharing meals and a bed at night.

  
  


But Lambert can't force himself to be of good company these days and is mostly monosyllabic. His attitude grates on Aiden's nerves, he knows it, and he's certain that it won't take long for him to snap.

  
  


And snap he does four days after the first snow falls. Lambert is once again outside, shovelling snow left and right that really doesn't need shovelling at all. But he imagines his family's faces when he has a big pile of snow before him and delights in stricking it forcefully with his shovel. It does scatter snow everywhere but at least it allows him to take his anger out at something that doesn't mind it.

  
  


“Lambert ! Can you come inside ? Lambert !”

  
  


Aiden's shouts stop him mid-strike and he scowls heavily at the snow, kicks it one last time for good measure and goes inside.

  
  


“What ?”, he snarls.

  
  


“Do you plan to spend all winter in a foul mood ? Because we could be doing things far more pleasurable than shovelling and kicking innocent snow.”

  
  


“I'm sorry,” he apologizes in a grunt because it's true that he hasn't been the best of companions lately. “I'll go put the shovel away and then we can... hum, find something to do ? Together ?”

  
  


He ends his sentence in a question, because he can't fathom why Aiden would want to spend time with him while he's in a _mood._ And to be fair, Lambert has no idea what the Cat would even want to do. Dusting together isn't more fun than dusting alone after all.

  
  


“Something ? Together, he asks dumbly,” Aiden mutters at the ceiling and then points at him, “You're unbelievable. _You_ are going to finish shovelling the damn courtyard to dispose of the rest of your pent-up frustration and you better come in with a smile and a sunny disposition when you are finished.”

  
  


“I've never had a sunny disposition in my life,” he mumbles before shutting up when Aiden growls at him.

  
  


“ _I_ am going to finish cleaning the kitchen's hearth and then I'll prepare a light dinner that we'll take downstairs in the hot springs with us. Sounds good ?”

  
  


“We're not allowed to eat in the springs,” Lambert informs him.

  
  


“And who will stop us ? Nobody's here.”

  
  


Lambert gapes at him and feels like he actually wants to smile for the first time since he arrived.

  
  


“You know, I'm finally starting to see the good sides of being here alone,” Lambert says slowly.

  
  


“Fucking finally !”, Aiden says with a relieved sigh. “And when we are finished downstairs, we're going to go to your room and _thoroughly_ enjoy ourselves.”

  
  


“That sounds like a wonderful evening.”

  
  


“Glad you think so. And the next time you feel like wallowing in your anger or frustration, you come to me and we'll pick one of your brothers' rooms to... desecrate. Now, off you go, your courtyard won't clean itself alone.”

  
  


And Lambert goes back outside with a spring in his steps. He's not smiling yet, but he is almost sure that he'll end up there by the time he finishes shovelling the snow from the courtyard. And if he curses a little or gives a few good kicks to the snow piles, well nobody's here to scold him about it.

* * *

When Vesemir comes back to Kaer Morhen after a relaxing, and especially quiet winter, he finds the keep empty. He saw tracks on the path leading up to it so he knows that some of the other Wolves were home this winter, but they have already left by the time he arrives. He's not especially disappointed, he'll see them next year and will be able to enjoy some peace and quiet for a while longer.

  
  


He settles his horse and notes with appreciation that the roof of the stables has been fixed and that the stalls are all clean. When he comes back out, he spots a new big wood pile in the courtyard and the old forge seems to have been cleaned out. He frowns a bit because the east wall hasn't been mended like he asked, but he can see that someone built a new meat dryer and _that_ definitely wasn't on the list.

  
  


He finds all the tools cleaned and tucked away in their shed and there's no weapon left outside in the training yard, so at least his mentees made an effort to clean after themselves. He finally goes inside and nothing seems out of the ordinary. The floor doesn't look like it has been dusted in a while, but he knows that Geralt, Eskel and Lambert hate this task so they may have skipped it. He takes note to do it soon.

  
  


He first goes to the kitchen and the first thing he notices is that the room stinks faintly of sex, of Lambert and of someone who is unfamiliar. He curses because the rule that states _no sex in the kitchen_ exists for a reason and he wonders why Geralt and Eskel let their little brother do as he pleased. Maybe he did it after they had already left ?

  
  


He opens wide the sole window and the door and leaves the kitchen to air itself out. He'll come back when it'll be more breathable. He goes upstairs, checks the library, whose books have been dusted, but the room itself stinks of sex too and Vesemir starts to grumble in earnest.

  
  


His next stop is his room on the first floor and when the stench of Lambert intermingled with the one from his unknown companion assail his nostrils yet again, he curses the brat out loud and vows to give him the correction he deserves next winter. He strips the covers and the sheets of his bed, which of course haven't been cleaned, and leaves them in the corridor.

  
  


He continues his check of the keep and finds Lambert's sex stench in every room he opens. He apparently visited the armoury and Geralt's and Eskel's rooms too. Lambert's own room has been aired and the sheets washed before he left, surely as a heartfelt fuck you for whatever imaginary slight they have caused him, because the scent isn't as strong there.

  
  


Vesemir pinches the bridge of his nose and massages his temples and wonders what he did to deserve this. Maybe going away wasn't so good an idea. He's totally starting to regret it.

  
  


When he finishes his tour of the keep and comes back down with a heavy armful of laundry to do, he's pretty sure that Lambert and his unknown guest were the only visitors this winter. Geralt's and Eskel's scents have all but disappeared from the keep and he doesn't think that they would have been foolish enough to let Lambert leave last.

  
  


He checks the hot springs, but unsurprisingly they bear Lambert's and his companion's smell too. Vesemir growls at that because he can't fucking air the hot springs and everything looks pretty deliberate to him.

  
  


It'll take a few more days for the scent to properly disappear and he wanted a hot bath in the evening. He'll have to think of a good revenge to enact next winter. He dumps the dirty laundry on the floor and leaves because he can't deal with the stench right now.

  
  


Vesemir goes back to the kitchen, which already smells better, and heads down to the pantry where he prays Lambert didn't spread his scent too, because that would just be unsanitary and disgusting. Luckily the two pantries are untouched and he can even see some new dried meat that Lambert left here.

  
  


There's less of a dent in the alcohol supply that he thought he would find, and that is a nice surprise too. It won't save Lambert from his wrath when he comes back next winter, but Vesemir can still appreciate the gesture. He takes a bottle of wine upstairs with him, because he desperatly needs it, and spends his evening bemoaning Lambert's flaws and cursing his name back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read plenty of fics where a witcher takes a friend/lover up to Kaer Morhen for the winter (usually Geralt and Jaskier), which I love, and well, Jaskier got to visit too in the first part.  
> But I wanted something different for Aiden and Lambert and that idea came to me and made me snicker so... here, hope you enjoy!!


	8. The seventh ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we delve into Coën's relationship with Aiden and Lambert !

Lambert is standing at the table in the kitchen of Kaer Morhen in the middle of winter, and chopping potatoes for dinner when he finally remembers what happened to the seventh ring. He darts a quick look at Aiden, who's cutting up meat for their stew, and wonders if he's going to be upset about it. Lambert sets his knife down, places both of his hands flat on the table and takes a deep breath.

“I know what I did with the seventh ring.”

“Oh, did you lose it at Gwent too ?”, Aiden asks without looking away from the meat.

“That was once,” Lambert grumbles, “And I really thought that I was going to win.”

“Still counts as a divorce,” Aiden croons with a smile on his face.

“If you say so,” Lambert yields because he knows that he won't win this argument, “I gave it to Coën.”

And that draws a reaction from Aiden. The Cat lets his knife go and whips his head around to look at him. His smile is gone and his eyes are narrowed but he doesn't look angry, just tense.

“Should I be jealous ?”

“I don't think so,” Lambert says slowly and then explains, “I owed him money and I didn't have anything to pay him with. So I rummaged through my bags and found your ring. It had an emerald in it, so I thought that it would be a good enough payment.”

Aiden hums and leans back on the table.

“So you didn't use it as a marriage proposal ? Because it's bad taste to offer a ring your husband gave you to the other man you're wooing.”

“I'm not wooing Coën, asshole,” Lambert says and rolls his eyes, “And we're not married yet either.”

“If you say so,” Aiden says in a flippant tone of voice that conveys his disagreement with Lambert's point of view perfectly.

“Not yet ! Remember what the kid said ? Family needs to know. And they still don't know. And if Coën kept the ring, I can probably get it back.”

“Why would he have kept it ? The ring's probably been sold by now.”

Lambert shrugs, “Well, Coën can be a weird bastard at times, so he may have kept it.”

“Does this mean that we're married to him too ?”, Aiden wonders with a shit-eating grin.

“No !”, Lambert exclaims, “I don't think Coën could bear being married to me anyway. And I would spend years on end with you if I could.”

“Oh, Lambert,” Aiden sighs and comes closer, “You can be really sweet sometimes.”

Lambert then watches Aiden dump his half cut meat in the stew pot, towel his hands and stalk towards him. He lets his lover crowd him into the table at his back and he sits up on it when the wood becomes uncomfortable against his back.

Aiden makes himself at home between his legs and kisses him slowly but fiercely. Lambert hears his own knife clatter to the floor and he pushes the potatoes further up the table, so that he can stretch his body comfortably across it.

He ends up on his back on the kitchen table with Aiden leaning over him and still kissing him adoringly. He could get used to an empty keep, he muses then, if all their cooking sessions would end up like that.

* * *

After they are both satisfied and just resting on the table, Lambert feels Aiden play with his chest hair. He keeps his eyes closed and hums contentedly from the back of his throat to let him know that he can continue his ministrations. He feels Aiden smile against his skin and a kiss is pressed against his nipple.

“If Coën still has the ring,” Aiden whispers finally, “Then that means that he's married to us.”

“Pretty sure that's not how marriage works,” Lambert comments.

“How would you know ? Ever been married before ?”

“No. You're the first.”

“Then it's decided.”

“Do I get a say in this ?”, Lambert grumbles even as he knows that Aiden will do what he wants.

“Nope,” the Cat answers cheekily, “Listen, I know that Coën was your lover before I came along, and that you care for him, maybe even love him too, even if you won't admit it. Maybe not like you love me, but you wouldn't have introduced us if you didn't care. And I like him well enough, so he can be our husband too.”

Lambert doesn't say anything faced with his lover's flippancy because he doesn't know how to react. Aiden is right, he loves Coën. He's not sure that they could travel together for a month or two without bloodshed, like he does with the Cat every year, their tempers are probably too different for that, but the Griffin's important to him too and he'd loathe to lose his affections. He puts his right hand in Aiden's hair and scratches his scalp lightly.

“When we see him again in summer,” Aiden continues, “We'll tell him and we'll drag him to Kaer Morhen with us next winter to meet your family.”

“We're coming back next winter ?”, Lambert asks bewildered and opens his eyes wide.

Aiden gets up on his elbow at his question and peers at him seriously.

“Of course we're coming back. We still need to tell your family if you insist that we're not married otherwise.”

“Oh, I hadn't thought about it,” Lambert whispers and closes his eyes again as he feels Aiden settle back against his chest.

“Mm, we're going to find him, fuck him, explain to him how _you_ got him married to _us_ with one of _my_ rings and then we'll go on our own ways for a while again and reconvene for winter. You'll take both of us up your moutain, and we'll spend a delightful winter with your family.”

“Seems to me like you planned everything already.”

“I'm that efficient,” Aiden says smugly.

“There's just one problem,” Lambert says carefully, “I'm not sure that Coën could put up with me for months on end without needing a way to leave if it... if I get too much.”

“Don't worry,” Aiden whispers while patting his chest, “I'll be here to soothe the ruffled feathers and he'll be able to hang with your brothers or your mentor, or find a place to brood in peace if he needs it, it's not as if the keep will be full.”

“Okay, that sounds fucking nice,” Lambert finally yields before Aiden's idea, “But you can be the one to tell him.”

“You proposed !”, Aiden exclaims indignantly and bites Lambert's nipple slightly.

“Stop that !”, Lambert grumbles, “And it was your ring ! And your idea !”

“He was your lover first !”

“According to you he's your husband already, he's only my husband-to-be until we can tell my family.”

“You're so full of shit,” Aiden says and Lambert feels him grin against his chest again, “Fine, I'll tell him that he's married to us, but only if he kept the ring, and you can propose again if he divorced us already.”

Lambert splutters at that because they haven't talked about what would happen if Coën sold or lost the ring and Aiden's being preposterous again. The Cat laughs at the face he makes, and finally tugs him off the table and towards the water bucket so that they can clean themselves up a bit and return to their stew. They can bicker about their marriage over dinner, Lambert decides and steals one last kiss before going back to chopping potatoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love usually laid back Aiden, who turns into a ridiculous and stubborn man when he decides to do something and nothing can stop him once his mind is made up.


	9. Not it !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little bittersweet piece.

“Not it !”, Zorn exclaims loudly in the middle of dinner over the noise of witchers eating and chatting merrily after a long day of work. 

Ciri's been participating in the _not it_ game for a month now, and even if it's not a task-appointing night, she stills answers Zorn's claim with a loud _not it_ of her own. She knows better by now than to expect leniency and responsible behaviour from the Cats.

As she has already finished her dinner, she's the first to answer. She then hears the Cats' loud shouts and cries, starting with the ones whose mouths are empty and ending with the still chewing witchers.

According to her, and Seyn who's the designated referee, Dell's the last one to answer. His neighbour elbowed him in the ribs and the witcher choked on his meat. When he finally stops coughing, Mal turns to Zorn to ask him what Dell so kindly volunteered for.

“Well, Aiden's not here”, he starts explaining around a mouthful, “So he's probably dead.”

And Ciri's heart skips a beat and she lets out a small sound of surprise. Aiden can't be dead ! She saw him a few months ago, that's just... just so horrible. But he's a witcher, she realizes, and witchers hunt monsters and that's dangerous and she feels tears start to pool in her eyes. 

Seyn looks at her with a sad kind smile and offers her a tissue from his spot on the other side of the table. He then looks pointedly at Jayn, who's sitting next to her, until he starts to pat her shoulder awkwardly. She sees Berwyn looking sadly at his plate and the witchers' smiles disappear but they don't seem particularly aggrieved by the news.

“And ?”, Mal asks, irritated, “What does it have to do with the _not it_. It's not like we're going to send someone to go looking for the corpse.”

And Ciri lets out another small sound of shock and pain.

“No, I know,” Zorn says and pauses for a few seconds before announcing in a dead-pan, “But there's Lambert.”

And at that, all the Cats swear loudly, some jump from their seats and one or two even look over their shoulders. They're being weird, Ciri thinks, it's as if they're scared of _Lambert_. He didn't appear that terrifying to her, yes he likes to brawl and to swear and he is a hard taskmaster, all witchers are actually, but he wasn't cruel or overly mean.

“So, now that means that Dell volunteered to convey the news to the Wolf,” Zorn says.

“Right,” Mal says and Ciri sees him taking a big breath, “My condolences, Dell, we'll make sure to offer you a nice burial when he's done with you.”

And Dell just whimpers and starts to bang his head on the table. Ciri doesn't understand them, at all. So she turns towards Jayn, who's still absentedly and mechanically rubbing her back, to ask what all the fuss is about.

“Why are you all scared of Lambert ?”

“We're not scared of him !”, Jayn says indignatly.

“Right,” Ciri says dubiously, “Then why did you have to play _not it_ to speak to him ?”

“It's just that... Aiden and Lambert were... you know !”

And Jayn makes a weird gesture with his hands and Ciri rolls her eyes at him.

“I travelled with them for a month. I know that they were sleeping together, I'm not blind”, Ciri sighs.

“Well, at this point it's probably a bit _more_ than just sleeping together.”

“Of course, they are... were married after all.”

“What ?”, Jayn asks and then continues quickly, “No ! Don't bother explaining, I don't want to know. So you understant that Lambert's going to take the news of Aiden's death rather badly.”

“Yes,” Ciri says and frowns at the witcher because she doesn't know why that would be alarming, “Are you afraid that he'll cry on you ? Or something ?”

Jayn winces and looks around at the other witchers, who are all following their conversation carefully.

“He probably won't cry,” Jayn mumbles, “When he's upset, especially about Aiden, Lambert tends to get violent.”

“Oh !”

“And there has been _incidents_.”

“What kind ?”, Ciri wonders.

“Oh, all kinds !”, Jayn smiles.

“Wait !,” Mal interrupts, “If we're going to be trading stories about Aiden and his wolf, we might as well make it into a proper wake. I'm fetching the White Gull, don't start without me !”

And then the witchers hurry to finish their plates, discard the dishes in a basin next to the sink and get some new tankards out. Ciri asks if she can try the new beverage too but the Cats look so horrified at her question that, even if they don't answer her, she decides to stick to her water. Seyn shakes his head at the commotion and wipes the table clean before taking his place back in Pierre's lap.

When Mal comes back, he deposits two heavy bottles of alcohol on the table and every witcher hands him their tankard eagerly. Ciri notes that Seyn doesn't partake either, and maybe it's a witcher's brew only, she muses. When everyone's served, they all sit back down and it's decided that Dell can start the storytelling.

“Hum... Well, everybody knows how Aiden is... was obsessed with apples pies, right ?”

The assembly hum in agreement and Ciri nods along because she _knows_ , Aiden had almost stabbed her hand when she had tried to steal a slice of his pie a few months ago.

“You remember some twenty years ago, when Aiden came back from a village with two apple pies and a wolf witcher in tow ?”

Everybody hums again and Ciri nods and listens intently.

“We all made fun of Lambert because he looked like a bunch of drowners shit on him and then, I think it was you Zorn,”

“Nope, it was Wyff,” Zorn says and points at said witcher.

“Yeah, I swear I can still feel the bruises !”

“Shhh, don't spoil the story !”, Dell shushes him, “And you decided that you really needed that second apple pie.”

“I still think that he didn't need _two_ ,” Wyff mutters and Ciri smiles.

“And Aiden, who had his mouth stuffed full, didn't manage to save his second pie from your grabby hands and then the bastard let big fat tears slip out of his eyes.”

All the witchers grumble at that and Ciri sees Berwyn looking at his tankard wistfully.

“And we all knew that they were fake,” Dell continues loudly and gesticulates widly, “I knew that they were fake, Mal knew that they were fake, fuck, I bet even the damn wolf knew that they were fake ! But it didn't stop Lambert from jumping onto Wyff's back like a man possessed and from beating the shit out of him. And in the background, you can spot the little shit just smiling smugly at the display. He even got his second pie back, and mostly intact too.”

Dell shakes his head and lifts his tankard.

“To Aiden, the pie obsessed weirdoe !”

And all the witchers echoe his toast, lift their tankards and swallow a big gulp of their drink. Ciri hastens to imitate them and looks around at the witchers to see who'll be next. Berwyn speaks next.

“Not that Aiden couldn't be a feral bastard if he wanted to,” he starts slowly and quietly and Ciri needs to strain her ears to hear him, “You all remember Memnos, right ?”

Ciri sees several witchers wince.

“Good riddance,” Mal murmurs, lifts his glass and drinks another big gulp.

The other witchers imitate him quickly, and Ciri turns to Jayn to ask about the man because she doesn't know him.

“He was the Leader of the Caravan before Mal took over. A real bastard. Not a very nice person.”

Ciri nods, wonders what he was like because she still thinks that Mal isn't a nice person, and turns back towards Berwyn.

“So you remember the night when Aiden and Lambert were playing cards ? The Wolf cheated and our Cat just turned feral and almost threw him off the moutain path we were travelling on.”

All the witchers nod and Ciri looks at Berwyn aghast because did he just say that Aiden tried to kill Lambert ? In a fit of rage ?

“And the next evening, the stupid Wolf asked if anyone else wanted to play cards with him, because apparently the lesson didn't stick,” Berwyn says, exasperated, “and Memnos agreed. They played, and of course the Wolf cheated again, and then our dear leader tried to throw him off the mountain too. Only Aiden took offense because apparently the stupid mutt was _his_ , and he just threw himself at Memnos like the man didn't train him.”

“That was a hell of a sight,” Zorn comments and the Cats hum in agreement.

“And we were all watching the two of them fight when the Wolf came back up from where he was dangling on the moutain's side, and they just stopped. Aiden snarled one last time at Memnos, who just smirked, and they went their separate ways. And a few weeks later, we received word about a contract that Memnos said he'll take care of personally because the target was...”

At that both Mal and Seyn loudly clear their throat. Berwyn seems to come out of his retelling trance, and all the witchers look at Ciri for the briefest moment before turning back towards Berwyn. Ciri frowns and wonders what that is about.

“Right,” Berwyn continues, “So Memnos disappeared one evening and Aiden went missing the same night. We didn't hear anything about any of them for a month, and then Aiden came back like nothing happened, with the contract's reward and word that Memnos died in a _landslide_.”

The witchers all grin at the last word of Berwyn's sentence and Ciri just doesn't understand why someone's death would make them happy. She likes the stories but she thinks that she's clearly missing some points.

“And we all knew that it was a lie, because well, a landslide in the middle of summer ? When it hadn't rained in weeks ? Right ! But well it was Memnos the bastard, so we all pretended that we were sad at hearing the news when really we were all just elated. So I just want to say, thank you, you crazy feral bastard, I still owe you one.”

“To the crazy feral bastard !”, the witchers exclaim before they take another big gulp of their drink.

Some tankards are almost empty and Mal starts to refill the glasses, when Seyn gets back up and motions for Ciri to finish her drink and to follow him outside. She obeys mullishly but joins him anyway. The witchers all turn towards Zorn and don't notice her slipping away.

“Why can't I stay ?”, Ciri asks to Seyn, “I want to hear more about Aiden !”

“Because it's going to get ugly soon in there,” he explains with a grimace, “They're going to get drunk, their stories are going to get more violent and cruder and you really don't need to hear that.”

He puts a protective hand on her shoulder and leads her across the common room quickly. Ciri spots a few clients and averts her eyes when she sees Pell get gropped by an old man. Seyn guides her back to her room and Ciri stops him before he leaves.

“Is... Do you think Aiden's really dead ? I mean, there's no proof !”

“Listen, Fiona,” he whispers and bends to be able to look her in the eyes, “Aiden was not one to travel all year with the Caravan, that's true, but, for as long as I've known the witchers, he always came back here to at least check in and sometimes spend the winter. So there's a small chance that he's still alive out there but... I'm sorry, but you shouldn't get your hopes up.”

Ciri stares at him but he really seems serious. He looks a little bit sad and sorry for her and Ciri hugs him tightly. She'll pray for Aiden tonight, she decides, it's the only thing she can do. When she releases him, Seyn ruffles her hair and Ciri wishes him a goodnight before going to bed. She goes to sleep quickly and wakes up screaming from nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiden's death is mentioned but he's safe !  
> This takes place in winter, so he's in Kaer Morhen with Lambert, he just didn't inform anyone that he was ditching them...
> 
> And I really feel like Aiden/apple pies is a legitimate ship in this too :D


	10. Surprise, we're married !

Lambert is enjoying watching Aiden demolish an entire apple pie in a tavern in northern Temeria, when the establishment's door is pushed open and Coën walks through. The Griffin spots them immediately and freezes for a few seconds before joining them in a hurry.

Lambert frowns at the weird behaviour, and is prepared to demand an explanation, when Coën reaches them, tugs Aiden off his chair and hugs him tight.

“You're alive, thank Melitele, you're alive,” he whispers against Aiden's neck and then kisses him fiercely.

Lambert gapes at him because he doesn't understand why Coën would think that Aiden was dead, and then decides that his question can wait because he has a nice view to enjoy. Aiden and Coën don't usually kiss spontaneously like that, if Lambert wants a show, he has to ask them for it, so he stares at them enraptured.

And then one of the patrons makes a degrading comment and Coën releases Aiden. Lambert lets out a small sound of protest and blushes when his two lovers turn to him with knowing smiles.

“Shut up ! I'll be right back, got some ass to kick.”

Lambert starts a bar brawl, that he wins easily with Aiden's cheers ringing across the room. They have to leave when the barkeep threatens to call the town's guards, and they make a quick exit. Coën extends a hand towards the Cat and they share a horse for a few hours, until they decide to stop near a stream and under some shade away from the road.

The first thing Lambert does when he dismounts is to go over to Coën to greet him personally and thoroughly too. It then takes them a while before they're focused enough to set the camp up, take care of the horses and hunt for food.

In the evening, when they are finally settled next to the fire with full bellies, Lambert turns to Coën to solve the mystery of his greeting.

“What was that about Aiden being dead ?”

“There's a rumor circulating in the grapevine about Aiden's death,” he explains slowly and scratches the Cat's scalp lightly, “Apparently you didn't check in during winter and the Cats are trying to delegate the chore of informing Lambert of your demise.”

“But... That's bullshit !”, Lambert splutters.

“I checked in two months ago,” Aiden says, puzzled.

“Oh, well, I was told about your death four months ago. I've been trying to track you down since then, Lambert. Wasn't very lucky. So where did you spend your winter if not with the Cats ?”

Lambert exchanges a heavy stare with Aiden and the Cat stops sprawling in Coën's lap to sit between the two of them.

“Coën,” Aiden asks intently, “Do you still have the ring Lambert gave you ten years ago as payment for some debts ?”

Coën blushes and Lambert's sure that he kept it. The Griffin then stares at his silver sword.

“I had it fused to my sword's pommel so as not to lose it,” he mumbles, embarrassed, and Lambert grins because he knew that the Griffin was a soft romantic.

“Good,” Aiden says, “Then I'm happy to inform you that it was a marriage proposal. From both of us. That you accepted. And I gladly encourage you to greet me like you did more often, husband. I'm sure Lambert will have no complaints whatsoever.”

“None at all,” Lambert says and leers at them both.

“What ?”, is Coën's stupid answer to the revelation.

“We're married now,” Aiden explains patiently, “Or rather you both are my husbands, but we're only Lambert's husbands-to-be for now. He insists on us meeting his family first to make it official.”

“What ?”, Coën asks again in a daze.

Lambert rolls his eyes at the stunned Griffin.

“Come with us to Kaer Morhen this winter ?”, he asks

“What ?”, Coën asks for the third time and Lambert thinks that he can detect a small note of disbelief in the question.

“I think we broke him,” Aiden comments, “Don't worry, dear, we'll explain everything to you tomorrow again. Come on Lambert, you take his left side, our husband seems to be in need of a good cuddle.”

Lambert sighs but obeys Aiden. After manhandling Coën so that he's lying flat on his bedroll, Lambert sprawls on his left side, takes his left hand in his and cushions his head on his chest. He sees Aiden do the same thing on the right side of their husband, and they go to sleep happy and contented. They'll deal with Coën's stupid befuddlement in the morning.

* * *

When Lambert wakes up, it's to Aiden's face resting a few centimeters of his own on Coën's chest. Lambert smiles at him and grins when the Cat mouths _We're totally keeping him_ at him. He then stretches, gets up and disappears in the forest because his bladder waits for no one.

When he comes back, the other two witchers are awake and nibbling on some pears. Lambert joins them and Coën hands him a fruit too.

“So, how did we end up married again ?”, the Griffin wonders.

“Like usual, I guess,” Aiden says and Lambert scoffs because _right_.

“Hum, humor me and explain it to me in detail, if you don't mind.”

“Okay,” Aiden says and makes himself comfortable, “So I proposed to Lambert with a ring. Lambert accepted my proposal. We got married for the seventh time.”

“Not that I knew it,” Lambert interrupts, grinning.

“And then he gave you the ring. Our _wedding ring_. So I decreed that it counted as a marriage proposal too. That you accepted. And here we are. Married.”

Lambert snickers when he sees the disbelief clearly written on Coën's face. It contrasts beautifully with Aiden's relaxed features. And the Wolf will never know how Aiden can sound so reasonnable when telling such unbelievable stories.

“Do I get a say in this ?”, Coën wonders.

“Nope,” Lambert and Aiden say together.

“I didn't get one either, if it makes you feel any better,” Lambert continues, “It's all Aiden. But I can't really say that I'm disappointed with the results. So Kaer Morhen this winter ?”

“It doesn't really make it better, no,” Coën says and frowns, “Do I get a say about winter then ?”

“Sure,” Aiden agrees.

“About as much as for the wedding,” Lambert contradicts, “I may or may not have heard about a plan that would involve tracking you down in the fall, tying you up to Aiden's saddle and dragging you to the keep anyway.”

“You helped devise that plan !”, Aiden hisses.

“Yeah, because yours was shit. It just really showed that you never tried to kidnap a witcher.”

“Because you tried ?”, Coën asks and he sounds fondly exasperated.

“We got bored one winter with Eskel and Geralt,” Lambert explains and shrugs, “We organized false kidnapping attempts two against one. It was... memorable. We drove Vesemir crazy too. But anyway, I learned from my mistakes.”

“Well I guess that means that I'll be coming,” Coën sighs.

“Splendid,” Aiden says, beams at them and straddles Coën's lap, “Now, kiss me ? I think that we might have deprived Lambert of a pleasing sight yesterday, and we really have to make it up to him. Don't you think ?”

Coën hums and kisses the Cat. Lambert sprawls on the ground next to them and enjoys the show. They're really beautiful like this, he thinks and vows to make them perform more often.

* * *

When Coën finds him in northern Kaedwen in autumn, the first thing Lambert sees is a donkey. A donkey ladden with supplies following the Griffin. Aiden's not here yet and Lambert feels his absence acutely, because with whom is he supposed to share his puzzlement now ?

“What the hell is that ?”, Lambert finally asks the Griffin after greeting him.

“ _That_ is a donkey,” Coën says with a grin, “I would have thought that you'd be able to recognize it on your own by now.”

“Smartass,” Lambert growls and smacks Coën's ass on his way to the donkey, “What is it doing here ? With... cauliflowers ?”

“And beans and red cabbages. A crate of wine. Pears and apples.”

“How the fuck did you afford all that ? I don't have enough money right now to pay for two bottles of wine.”

“Manners,” the Griffin sighs, “You know these things that completely go over your head ?”

Lambert grunts and flips him off.

“And I may have happened upon some not yet harvested fields on my way up here.”

“Coën ! You asshole, you stole ! After all the shit you gave the kid about her stealing habits ?”

“Yeah, well, you and Aiden surely didn't think about gifts for our hosts. Am I wrong ?”

“No,” Lambert says, “But they're family. They don't need gifts.”

“It never hurt anyone to be polite,” Coën counters, “And it might make Aiden's arrival less... awkward ? Maybe ? We both now that the Cats have a reputation.”

“Fuck,” Lambert swears and berates himself because he should have _thought_ about it, “I'm shit at this. I should have thought about it.”

“Don't worry,” Coën soothes and claps him on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin, “That's why I'm here. For the manners. Aiden's the brain. And we never told you, but we're only putting up with you for your good looks.”

“Fuck you !”, Lambert growls and starts to unload the donkey because they might still be here for a few days until Aiden arrives.

Coën just laughs and works on his own horse. Lambert's anxiety abates a little because Coën seems to know what he's doing, and he's as committed to him as he is to Aiden, so there's no reason for the meeting with the other Wolves to turn out bad. Probably. He'll hang on to Coën's steadiness to get him through the rest of the journey.


	11. Seyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : this one is a little bit angstier in the beginning than the others.  
> We are following Seyn, the whore who was "gifted" to the Cats in the Witchers' stalker and who manages the brothel in the Bard's daughter.  
> Underage prostitution is mentioned and there is some dubious consent : it's brief but it's there.
> 
> The Cats are still ridiculous though.

Seyn has been a whore all his life. He was born to a mother who, despite working in a brothel, wanted a child so desperatly that she didn't take her potions one day. Seyn hates her for it on the bad days.

The brothel owner kindly agreed to let his mother stay and to house him as a child. But he grew up and, even if his mother had tried to find him an honest apprenticeship, nobody had been willing to take on a whore's son. He took his first client when he was fifteen.

He still thinks that he is somewhat lucky. He works in a small town brothel where most of the patrons are interested in women, so it's rare for him to entertain customers more than three times a week.

He still gets a few regulars, a noble that comes to enjoy him twice a year for a week far away from his wife and estate, the blacksmith's son that likes his mouth and the mayor of the next village over who likes to share a man and a woman when he visits. It's not a really bad or a really good life, but it's his and he has resigned himself to it a long time ago.

And when he is eighteen, a convoy of witchers settles down on the outskirts of the village. Seyn has never seen a witcher, he's heard about them of course, but never has one of them set foot in the brothel. They soon become the subject of all the village's gossip.

Seyn learns more about witchers in a week than in all of his life. The other whores tell him about how they are as monstrous as the beasts they hunt, how they won't hesitate to kill a man because he looked at them and they took it as a challenge and how they like to torture their bedmates as foreplay.

And as the week progresses and the witchers don't seem to be in a hurry to leave, new rumors start to appear. Men and women whisper about crops wilting, about water sources being poisonned and people disappearing. Unrest starts to gain his village and the neighbouring ones too.

The mayors of the three villages then decide to try to bride the witchers to go away. They offer them food and drink for free but the men still won't leave. Seyn feels like they should have seen that coming. Why would they want to leave if they were being fed for free ?

One day at the beginning of the second week, the three mayors come to the brothel. The owner greets them cordially and ushers them quickly into his office. Seyn hears his coworkers start to mutter angrily. None of them are stupid, they know that they're going to be thrown to the wolves without a second thought.

The brothel owner will probably be compensated for their death and they'll just be forgotten by everyone. Seyn wonders if some of them could make a run for it but, when he looks out of the window, he spots several men surrounding the building. They just have to resign themselves to their fate then.

When the owner asks for his mother to join them, Seyn first refuses to let her go. Even if their relationship is strained, he doesn't want to loose her. And certainly not like that. She pats his hand consolingly, smiles sadly at him and joins the men. She reappears ten minutes later with red rimmed eyes and tugs him upstairs.

Seyn thinks that they are going to her room to pack her things, and doesn't really understand what is happening when his mother starts to collect his meagre belongings instead.

“Ma ?”, he asks her uncertainly.

“It's you they want, darling,” she whispers quietly and hugs him tightly.

“And you let them ?”, he asks with a strangled voice.

“I'm sorry, darling, I'm sorry, but they offered your sister or brother a better life if I allowed them to take you away.”

“I don't have a brother or a sister.”

“Not yet,” his mother says with a small smile as she puts her hands on her belly.

She's pregnant again, he realizes, and she sold him so that the baby could have a better life. Seyn looks at her with horror as he slowly takes in what she is telling him. He weakly grasps the bag she hands him and lets her accompany him downstairs. He should be grateful that he's at least worth enough for the men to offer a future to the baby, he thinks bitterly, they could have just kidnapped him instead.

His mother hugs him one last time and Seyn can barely hear the other whores' mutterings under the ringing of his ears. He's then lead outside and given to the blacksmith who binds his hands tightly. _As if I would run_ , he thinks, _it's not like I have a place to go to anymore, I might as well do my job so that my family can be taken care of_.

The blacksmith puts him in a cart with some flour and beans sacks and they are off. Seyn doesn't remember much of this journey. He spent it mostly comatose and was jostled out of his unresponsive state when the mayor of his village tugged him to his feet. The man then proceeded to dump him at the witchers' feet and everyone just left.

Seyn doesn't know what to do so he stays on his knees and keeps his gaze on the floor. He just hopes that if they decide to kill him, they'll do it quickly. And then an imposing man tugs him to his feet, cuts the rope binding his hands and leads him to a fire.

Seyn finds himself sitting on a tree trunk with a blanket over his shoulders and a mug of tea in his hands. As a start, it's already better than what he was imagining.

“So,” the closest witcher starts, “what are you doing here exactly ?”

Seyn raises his eyebrows at him and looks pointedly at the man's crotch. He was delivered in a see-through dressing gown for fuck's sake, there isn't a thousand explanations to derive from that fact.

“I'm a whore,” he still says slowly.

“Ah, good, we were afraid you were some kind of orphan they kidnapped and forced into slavery or something.”

Seyn hums and waits for the men's reactions. He wonders how long it'll take before he'll end up on his back. The silence stretches uncomfortably until another witcher breaks it.

“I'm it,” the man says and leers at Seyn.

And then all the witchers start shouting at each other and Seyn doesn't know what is happening. When he sees the first witcher come closer, he hurries to finish his tea, and follows him obediently to a nearby cart where he finds some furs laid out. He's a whore, he's got no illusion about what is going to happen, and resigns himself to do his job, hoping the man doesn't kill him.

To his surprise Pierre, that is the witcher's name, is gentle. He doesn't hurt him, lets him settle comfortably on the rugs, and then he kisses him slowly, actually plays with his body until he is hard and prepares him carefully. Confronted with the witcher's gentleness, Seyn tries to reciprocate and his caresses are gladly accepted and welcomed.

Even after the witcher comes and makes him come too, he still can't quite comprehend what has happened. He was prepared to die here, to be fucked to death by a monster and instead he got care and pleasure. He soon starts to cry, big sobs shacking his body, and the witcher just pets his hair and shushes him slowly. Seyn still doesn't understand what is happening.

* * *

Seyn calms down in the next few days, when he understands that there's no risk for him to be beaten to death. The witchers are mostly gentle with him and offer him three meals a day, and that is all it takes to convince him to stay out of his own volition. It may be pathetic but at least he's never hungry or thirsty here.

He fucks all the witchers in the next few days too, and once he knows that they don't plan to beat him to death, he even makes an effort. After all, he's a whore, he might as well make use of his skills. The witchers seem to like it when he takes charge and they gladly let him embolden himself.

He starts to favor some of them too. Pierre, who has shown him kindness when he didn't expect it, is his favorite. The witcher always makes sure he has a good time too, and doesn't seem bothered when Seyn tells him to stay put so that he can ride him torturously slow.

Wyff is the witcher that makes him discover new things. He's the first to rim him and to let Seyn fuck him. He'll always have a special place in his heart for the new kinds of pleasure he brought him. The others are nice and gentle too, and even start to compete with one another when they understand that Seyn has favorites. He delights in watching them spar for his eyes and come up with new ways to spend a lovely evening.

He still finds Jayn a bit gruff, but his big hands are always gentle on his body, and Aiden weird, this one doesn't want to fuck and only gets by with a handjob a week. It's Pierre who explains that his brother has a lover, and that while they aren't completely exclusive - it's too impractical when you don't know when or if you'll see each other soon again – there are still some things that Aiden swore off, like fucking apparently. Seyn doesn't complain and takes it in stride.

And then there's Mal. He meets the leader three weeks after he was brought to the witchers, when he comes back from a contract. Seyn doesn't like him, he's too abrasive, but the man doesn't lay a finger on him – possibly because the others witchers would riot - so he lets him be.

He agrees to leave with the Caravan, to Mal's horror, because he really doesn't have anywhere to return to and he likes the Cats well enough. He travels with them for two months and wonders if that is going to be his life from now on.

He still longs for a bit more comfort, because the carts aren't the most comfortable in the world, but he bears it without complaining. He's sure that Mal would abandon him as soon as he'd open his mouth to grumble.

And one cold evening in the fall, while they are travelling through northern Temeria, Pierre comes back from a contract with a key and hands it to him.

“Hum, thanks,” Seyn says to him, puzzled, and examines the key carefully, “What's it for ?”

“I bought a brothel. For you.”

“You bought _me_ a brothel ?”, Seyn wonders.

“Well, yeah,” Pierre says and scratches his head, “We know that you don't really like travelling all over the place and that your presence upsets Mal.”

“Nothing upsets me,” Mal grumbles a fire away with an impressive scowl on his face and nobody believes him.

“So I got you a place to stay that we'll be able to visit. If you want us to ?”

“Of course I want you to, stupid,” Seyn says, smiles at Pierre and tugs him towards the cart where he sleeps.

* * *

When Seyn and the Caravan finally arrive at the brothel, he is disappointed. He still smiles at Pierre but the place is clearly ramshackled. The door doesn't close correctly anymore, half the shutters are missing, the roof is leaking in several places and the chimney is crumbling down.

Nobody is impressed and Seyn hears some witchers mutter that they would have bought something much more impressive. He finally understands why Pierre gifted him this establishment when he meets the prostitutes working there.

The ten women are huddled together in the kitchen, next to the fireplace, and smile at Pierre when they come in. They seem a bit wary of the rest of them and Seyn understands. They all look so thin, some sport ugly bruises on their faces and he sees some blood staining a few dresses.

He has to get out for a moment because he can't bear the sight of them. The owner of the brothel he grew up in sometimes punished his workers too but never to that extent. He thought that a too badly damaged whore wouldn't be worth anything, so he was always careful when dealing out punishments. And Seyn knew that these kind of establishments existed, he just never really expected to come across one.

He goes out through the back door from the common room, and ends up in a small courtyard. He spots a fresh grave a few ways away, and doesn't feel sorry for the bastard Pierre killed to acquire the brothel.

To his surprise Mal joins him outside. He looks at the grave too and slowly hums under his breath.

“It doesn't bother you that we're killers ?”, the witcher asks him and motions at the grave.

Seyn shrugs.

“He deserved it. And we all have our demons to live with.”

“Killing isn't something we're ashamed or proud of,” Mal continues, “It's just something that we're good at and that pays well.”

“I don't care. The men you kill probably don't give a rat's ass about me anyway. What is it you want ?”

“I don't like you. You're a distraction to them. But you carved yourself a place in the Caravan and I can respect that.”

“You're just afraid of the riot my disappearance would cause,” Seyn smirks at him.

“Not afraid of anything,” Mal grumbles, “Anyway, if I order them to leave now, I'll probably be faced with a mutiny and might join the previous owner of this wonderful establishment in his grave. So I've decided that we'll stay for the winter. We'll help you get this place set up properly and we'll disappear in spring. You'll stay here, stop distracting my men and we'll probably never cross path with each other again.”

“If you say so,” Seyn says with a smile because he has a feeling that the Cats won't let him go that easily.

* * *

Like he promised, Mal orders the Caravan to settle down at the brothel and they spend the winter putting the place back to rights. The prostitutes slowly get used to Seyn and the witchers, and Mal enjoys the calm winter even if he won't ever admit it.

And come spring, he whips the Caravan into shape and they head south. Mal certainly doesn't expect to hear about the whore again, he was a nice distraction but clearly belongs to the past. So he is a bit surprised when Dell comes back from a contract that summer with news that he visited the brothel.

Apparently everything is going well and Seyn sends their regards to all of them. Mal doesn't understand what the man is playing at. Does he want to be associated with witchers ?

And in the fall, Pierre leaves to take care of a contract in Ellander and when he doesn't come back and the others start to look shifty, Mal knows exactly where he went. He grumbles about it for days on end, and his bad mood sends Aiden running towards that Griffin he and the Wolf have a weird relationship with.

And suddenly the other Cats follow his example and they all discover pressing matters that they just _need_ to attend to right now. In the span of a few days, Mal finds himself alone with several carts and horses and wonders how he is supposed to get around with all of them. He waits for a week at their last campsite hoping that someone will come back. He's sadly disappointed.

On the eighth morning, he decides to join the other Cats to give them a good earful and to drag them back to the Path by their ears if he has to. He ties the horses to the carts in front of them, and leaves with a line behind him. He looks stupid and overwhelmed as he travels, has to stop several times a day because a horse or a cart is stuck and nobody is here to help him.

It takes him two very long weeks to get to the brothel and he arrives in a really bad mood. His mood sours even more when he hears the Cats chatting and laughing in the kitchen, even as he stays outside. He knocks violently on the door, and only has to wait briefly for Seyn to appear.

He wonders for a few seconds if he could just throttle the whore for all the trouble he caused him, and then remembers Memnos who died because he dared to touch the Wolf. Probably not a good idea, he muses, he has learned that there are just some things or people that are not to be trifled with if one wants to live another day with the Caravan. And apparently the whore is now one of them.

“Mal ! You're finally here.”

Mal grunts at Seyn and shoulders past him.

“Whore,” he greets him and heads to the kitchen.

When he opens the door to the kitchen, all the conversations immediately cease and every witcher present turn towards him. Mal scowls heavily at them, kicks Wyff off the bench to steal his place, and opens his mouth to scold his subordinates when a tankard of ale is hastily thrust into his hands. A hot plate is put before him, some cutlery appear next to it too and he closes his mouth.

_Fuck_ , he thinks, _I missed this_. He tucks into his meal because he's hungry, and lets out a small contented sigh when he recognizes Zorn's spices in the stew.

“The carts are parked outside,” Seyn announces when he comes back too, “Someone willing to take care of it ?”

And the Cats scramble over each other to get to it. Mal has never seen them be so eager to work.

“Thank you, darlings,” Seyn calls after them and then adds for Mal's benefit, “We added a stable in the backyard this summer, when Dell came to visit. And you have a room prepared just for you on the second floor.”

Mal grunts and tries to remember when was the last time he slept in a room by himself. He doesn't know. Jayn, who's the only one who didn't go out to help with the convoy, smirks knowingly at him and fills his tankard again.

Mal is starting to remember why he liked last winter so much. Warmth, good food and people that weren't afraid of him. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to spend a season each year basking in comfort, he muses. Melitele knew that they didn't have it easy the rest of the year.

His belly is full by the time the rest of the Cats come back in and his sour mood has abated a little. He still hasn't said a word to his brothers, but he can at least offer them a small tight smile now. He'll make them regret their behaviour tomorrow, he decides, he'd like to enjoy his evening for now.


	12. Grand entrance

Vesemir is busying himself in the kitchen, preparing a hotpot that'll last for a few days, when he hears Eskel greet Lambert in the courtyard. Vesemir scowls over the food because he still hasn't forgiven the little shit for his lack of decorum last winter, and wonders if it'd be appropriate for him to spank him like a little kid. He totally would have earned it.

He abandons the kitchen to head outside and isn't prepared at all for the sight that greets him. Eskel is tense, facing Lambert, and one of his hands hovers at his waist, where Vesemir knows that he keeps a knife even at Kaer Morhen. Lambert has a stony expression on his face and stands protectively between his brother and the two men accompanying him. Vesemir can feel a headache forming and rubs his temples.

He joins his mentees and greets Lambert cordially while he tries to understand what spooked Eskel.

“Lambert. Welcome back.”

“Vesemir,” the younger Wolf grunts and it's been a while since he heard that tone of voice.

Lambert sports his _defiant_ expression, the one he used to wear during his training years, when he did something that he knew would earn him a hard punishment but that he refused to apologize for because he thought that he was in the right. It was the bane of all the Wolves instructors' existences and destroyed quite a few cordial relationships. Vesemir knows that he has to tread carefully here or everything could end up in a disaster.

“Care to introduce your companions ?”, he asks and bats Eskel's hand away from his dagger.

Lambert nods and points at his companions without turning his back to them.

“Coën of the Griffins to my left and Aiden of the Cats to my right. My husbands,” he grunts defiantly and crosses his arms over his chest.

Vesemir battles the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation or to growl in defiance at the _Cat_. He understands now why Eskel is so tense. He stares intently at the other two witchers, Lambert's _husbands,_ and isn't that a terrifying and mind boggling thought. They are tense too and their hands are held as far away as possible from any weapon they possess. They're trying to appear as non threatening as possible, he realizes and frowns.

He then looks over Lambert, who doesn't appear to be hurt. Vesemir is forced to admit that it is unlikely that he was coerced into bringing them to the keep. And then his thoughts are racing.

He knows the witchers' names in passing, Lambert spoke a fair bit about Coën over the previous winters, but Aiden's mostly unknown. Vesemir remembers his name being mentionned a few times, but Lambert had always been cagey when speaking about him, the old Wolf understands why now.

Lambert starts to fidget and Vesemir can feel that he is preparing himself to deliver a truly impressive rant. And he doesn't really know what to do.

Does he want to spend an entire winter looking over his shoulders at the intruders ? Does he trust Lambert enough to welcome this two strangers ? Does he turn them away ? And could he live with himself if he did it and Lambert went with them ? Because there is no doubt in his mind that the Wolf would follow them back down the mountain if Vesemir refuses to give them shelter.

“Which one did you bring last winter ?”, he finally asks just before Lambert can start his rant.

“Aiden.”

Vesemir hums, he thought that it would have been the Griffin. Eskel startles next to him and glares at his brother. And shit, he can't just offer them free reign of the keep either. He wouldn't feel comfortable and he's almost sure that Eskel, and Geralt when he'll arrive, won't be able to relax with two armed and potentially dangerous witchers roaming the keep.

But he doesn't want to turn Lambert away either. He knows that there's a good chance that he'll lose him for good if he does. He clearly remembers that expression and the pain, anger and misery that came with it.

And what would the point even be if the Cat already visited the keep. Vesemir's almost sure that he examined every nook and cranny of Kaer Morhen last winter, and that he could sneak into it undetected if he wanted to.

“Weapons,” Vesemir finally says.

“What ?”, Lambert asks, puzzled.

“I want their weapons. Now. I'll lock them away in the armory and nobody will touch them, you have my word.”

He sees Lambert's face turn scarlet in anger but Vesemir won't compromise on this. He'll offer them shelter, he'll accept their presence in his territory, but he'll make sure Eskel, Geralt and he can feel somewhat safe here too. It can be a test of the new witchers' resolve too, to see if they're serious about staying. They'll revisit this policy later in the winter if Aiden and Coën manage to win their trust.

“Lambert, let it go,” the Cat finally intervenes, “It's a reasonable request. I trust that we won't come to any harm in your keep, master Vesemir ?”

“As long as you don't intend to harm us, you won't. I give you my word,” Vesemir vows solemnly and claps a hand on Eskel's shoulder to include him too.

Eskel clearly doesn't know what to think of his decision and is still looking at Lambert like he betrayed his trust. Vesemir knows that this winter will be a long one, they'll need time to work on getting to know each other better and on building trust.

Aiden and Coën nod at him and start to disarm themselves. They give their swords to Lambert and then start on their daggers. The Griffin even rummages in one of his saddlebags and gets a small crossbow out of it. When they're done, Lambert stands in the middle of the courtyard with an impressive armful of blades and Vesemir is almost sure that they were thorough.

And anyway, he doesn't plan on confiscating Lambert's blades, therefore the Cat and the Griffin will have access to swords and daggers easily, and it doesn't really matter if they keep a small knife. And he won't try to humiliate them by requesting they be pat down.

“Eskel, take the weapons to the armory, store them _carefully_ in a corner and lock the door when you're done.”

Lambert's expression is still cross but he hands his armful to Eskel without a fuss. Aiden and Coën stare intently at their weapons until Eskel disappears into the keep, but they don't make a move to get them back. Vesemir respects them for it, he would be fidgety if he was unarmed in unfamiliar company.

“Now, is that donkey loaded with supplies ? The stables are there,” he says and points at said building for the Griffin's benefit, “And they can show you where the pantries are located. I'll be in the kitchen in the meantime.”

And Vesemir pointedly turns his back to them to head inside the keep. He walks slowly and breathes deeply and resists the urge to glance behind him at the three witchers. He finally hears them moving as he reaches the door.

He then goes to the kitchen and exhales slowly before cursing loudly. He needs something to ground him and so goes back to his hotpot. He'll need to increase the portions if he means to feed everyone correctly.

Eskel joins him quickly and hands him the key to the armory after assuring him that he stored everything accordingly.

“Why did you let them stay ?”, he then whines, “One of them is a _Cat_ !”

“Because you would have lost your brother if I hadn't. We'll have to trust Lambert's judgment for a while, and make our own opinions.”

“But why did he have to bring them here ? And what does he mean by husbands exactly ?”, he continues to lament.

“Because they are important to him ? And I'm not opening _that_ can of worms, ask him yourself if you want to know so badly. Now stop whining and go fetch more potatoes.”

Eskel grumbles but heads for the pantry anyway and even starts to chop the potatoes without prompting. He probably needs something to occupy him too. They're working comfortably side by side when the door to the kitchen is gently pushed open, and the three other witchers step in with arms full of bags and crates. They head to the pantries in silence, Eskel tenses but doesn't move when they pass behind his back, and Vesemir hears them unload everything.

“Everything's stored,” Lambert grunts when he comes back, “We brought some beans, red cabbages and cauliflowers. A crate of wine, one of pears and one of apples.”

“Thank you,” Vesemir says and makes sure to catch the three witchers' eyes.

“Don't touch the apples,” Lambert then threatens, “We're planning to bake apple pies.”

“Oh, that will be lovely.”

“Yeah well, don't get your hopes up, Aiden's obsessed with apple pies. I'm not sure anyone else will get a slice.”

“I'm sure I can make an effort to share, Lambert,” Aiden says with a smile.

“If you say so,” Lambert answers, but Vesemir can hear the doubt clear in his voice.

“Dinner won't be ready for a few more hours,” he interrupts them, “You can use the time to get settled and take a bath.”

“A bath sounds nice,” Coën says and smiles at him.

“Hum, yes. Will you need rooms too or will Lambert's be enough for you three ?”

Vesemir hears Eskel choke on nothing at his blunt question but he just ignores him.

“We're sharing,” Lambert announces defiantly.

And Eskel chokes again. No subtlety this one, Vesemir despairs.

“Okay,” he says “Don't hesitate to ask if you need some more blankets, furs or sheets. I think we can probably find some more somewhere in the keep.”

And the conversation's still stilted, but at least they're all making an effort here. Lambert holds the kitchen's door open for his two husbands, and isn't that a sight, him being polite, and Vesemir adresses him one last time before they disappear in the keep.

“Oh, and Lambert !”

“Old man ?”

“You have a room so use it. If I catch you having sex anywhere else in the keep, I'll bend you over my knee and tan your hide red. Don't think I won't !”

Eskel splutters at the table, Lambert turns red and he can hear some embarrassed coughing and a long exasperated sigh from the corridor outside the kitchen. He then waves the younger Wolf away who quickly exits the kitchen.

Vesemir lets out a long sigh and hopes that he got his message across because he has no desire whatsoever to spank Lambert. It'll be uncomfortable and humiliating for the both of them, he thinks, but he'll do it if he has to, because he won't stand for his keep and his bed to be sullied by Lambert this year again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really starting to feel sorry for poor Eskel, who just isn't getting a break...


	13. The proposal

Eskel is teaching Cirilla, or rather Ciri as she likes to be called, to play Gwent. She's sitting next to him on the kitchen bench, whispering questions and pointing at cards she thinks ought to be played while Geralt, their opponent, tries his best to not let on that he can hear what she's saying. His brother could probably win easily with the hints Ciri is giving away, but prefers to give them a chance so that the girl can learn.

Jaskier is sitting next to Geralt, strumming his lute and humming quietly, while Vesemir and Yennefer are discussing a book the witch found in the library. Lambert and his husbands have disappeared several hours ago.

He still can't quite believe that _Lambert_ got married. Or rather sort of married, because Eskel is certain that nobody would acknowledge the three witchers' bond anywhere on the continent, but well if it's good enough for his youngest brother, it might as well be good enough for him. He still finds the idea of Lambert being married completely ludicrous though.

It's been two weeks since Geralt arrived and Eskel's slowly getting used to the new arrivals. He's familiar with Jaskier by now, and likes the bard, so his presence doesn't bother him. Ciri took to him spectacularly well, and she's so different from Deidre that Eskel looks forward to spending time with her. He's still having trouble with the others though.

The sorceress is an acquired taste, he finds, and he really doesn't know what Geralt sees in her. She's proud, doesn't take criticism well and spends an unholy amount of time bantering with Jaskier. They got on everyone's nerves so much that first week, that Geralt threatened to force them to share a room for a fortnight if they didn't calm down. His threat worked and they settled for glaring at each other in public and arguing in private. Eskel's grateful because they could be loud and rather obnoxious sometimes.

And then there are Lambert's guests. The Griffin's surprisingly nice, Eskel found out in these last two weeks. He helps with Ciri's training, mostly hand-to-hand, and was as surprised as him when the kid went straight for the _crotch_ on their first lesson. Apparently they have Letho to thank for that.

He offers advice and encouragement when Eskel and Geralt start on the sword lessons, watches her practice with her daggers and hatchet and always stays far away from any blades. He's so leavel-headed that Eskel wonders how he can bear Lambert's prickliness.

Eskel's considering offering him a dagger the next time they're in the training yard as a show of goof faith. He just hopes that his instinct's right, that his plan won't backfire and that the Griffin won't turn out to be a backstabbing asshole.

But as Ciri likes the man and he willingly helps out around the keep - he's mucking stables without complaints ! -, Eskel pretty's confident that his judgment's sound and not too worried about being stabbed in the back. He'll come back to haunt Lambert if he's wrong though.

The Cat, he still tends to avoid. Not that he or Lambert are around much. Vesemir gave Lambert and Aiden the task of checking every stone in the castle, even in the wings and towers they don't use anymore. They're supposed to look for all the loose stones and to reattach them in their place.

It involves a lot of walking, going up and down stairs and dragging buckets of mortar and water with them. Lambert hates the task and complains about it often enough, but Vesemir only has to mention the last winter for him to cooperate. The Cat doesn't grumble or whine and just follows Lambert around. He's oddly unassuming and accomodating for a supposed heartless deadly assassin.

And if he or Geralt inadvertently overthrow a bucket of mortar, it's a well deserved revenge, and they have the pleasure to watch Aiden and Lambert be forced to clean everything up too. Vesemir lets them enact their revenge in peace for a week, and only intervened after Lambert screamed bloody murder at Geralt when the older Wolf slowly approached the mortar bucket for the second time in a few hours three days ago.

Vesemir ordered them to let the two punished men work in peace and to stop with the petty gestures. And then Eskel had the privilege to witness his mentor turn towards the two kneeling witchers working on a loose stone and kick the mortar's bucket himself. It turned over slowly and spilled over the two witchers' hands.

Lambert's horrified and angered expression was a true delight ; the chase to escape their furious little brother, who took offense at their laughter, less so. Lambert chased them all over the keep with hands covered in mortar that he vowed to wipe off on them. He stayed weirdly away from Vesemir. That was totally unfair according to Eskel.

In the end, he didn't manage to catch them, and Coën and Aiden had to drag him off towards the hot springs before the mortar completely hardened on his hands. He and Geralt left Lambert and Aiden alone after that.

So Eskel's still wary of Aiden, and notes that Geralt is too, because they heard enough stories about the Cats that they don't want to let their guard down too soon and regret it later. But Ciri likes him well enough, just not when he's in Lambert's or Coën's vicinity, and Eskel understands that, the Cat is _shameless_ , not that Lambert is any better. Coën still retains a sense of decorum though, and that's nice. 

But they are slowly softening towards Aiden. Eskel doesn't jump up from his seat when the Cat steps behind him and doesn't stare at him when he enters a room anymore. He's still tense though, just not overly so. 

Eskel's musing is interrupted when Geralt clears his throat. He plays a new card, Ciri's choice, and scratches Lil' Bleater's soft head when his goat comes to him. Eskel managed to convince Vesemir to let her enter the kitchen, and the small animal loves to curl up beside the fire or to headbutt people until they pet her.

Eskel's a little bit in love with her, and he caught Vesemir giving her some carrot tops a few days ago, so he knows that even if the old Wolf grumbles about Lil' Bleater in the kitchen, he still likes her too.

And then the kitchen's door opens and the last three witchers come in. They look like they're coming from the hot springs, and Eskel's glad that they bathed before dinner. It means that he'll be able to enjoy the pools in the evening without having to watch his youngest brother grapple with his lovers and slowly get aroused.

That had been a very traumatic experience, even if Lambert and his husbands had relocated to the Wolf's room after Vesemir had pointedly and loudly cleared his throat. There're just some things brothers don't need to see, ever.

Eskel glances at the stew pot hanging over the fire, and thinks that dinner won't be ready for another half an hour. They are early then. The newcomers stop at the end of the table and Lambert knocks on it to get their attention.

“I've got something to say,” the young Wolf announces.

“We've already been through this, Lambert,” Vesemir retorts without looking away from the passage Yennefer's pointing at in the book, “You're still checking the north tower even if you think it's useless.”

“That's not what this is about. Even if I think that it _is_ useless... Anyway, we're getting married.”

Jaskier misses a chord on his lute and looks up at the three witchers with wide eyes. To be fair, everybody's looking at them now. The three of them look so proud of the fact that they are getting married _again_ , and these three idiots maybe totally deserve each other, Eskel thinks.

“Aren't you already married ?”, he asks sensibly.

“Yeah, we are,” Lambert nods, “but Aiden and I are already divorced eight times and we're only married seven times, so we're making it even. And we're only married once to Coën so we have to catch up !”

“How does that even work ?”, Yennefer mutters, “No, don't bother explaining ! It was a rhetorical question.”, she adds when she sees Aiden open his mouth.

Lambert then rummages through his pockets and gets out three rings. Silver, if Eskel's not mistaken. _Uh_ , he thinks, _must have cost a fortune_. Ciri squeals next to him. Lambert then takes Aiden's right hand in his and looks him straight in the eyes.

“Aiden. I love you and take you to be my husband. I promise not to divorce you again and to spoil you until the end of my days,” he recites solemnly and puts one of the rings on his finger.

They kiss and Eskel places his hands in front of Ciri's eyes because Geralt's glaring at him from the other side of the table. The girl quickly slaps his hands away.

“I've already seen it all !”, she hisses at him.

“All ?”, Geralt asks and he sounds choked.

Ciri shrugs, smiles and doesn't answer him. Jaskier pats Geralt's shoulder commiseratingly.

“Isn't he supposed to ask if Aiden wants to take him as a husband too ?”, Ciri wonders.

“Yes,” Eskel whispers back, “But when has Lambert ever done things normally ?”

Ciri hums and they turn back towards the three witchers at the end of the table. Coën has a fond look on his face, and Lambert and Aiden appear completely besotted with each other when they finally separate. The Wolf then turns towards the Griffin.

“Coën. I love you and take you to be my husband. I promise to try to be more responsible and to cherish you for the rest of my life,” he says solemnly again.

“I love you too, Lambert, and don't ever change,” Coën whispers to him as the Wolf puts the ring on his finger.

And they kiss too. The fond and pleased look appears on Aiden's face, and it's Lambert's and Coën's turn to look completely besotted when they separate. Eskel wonders who'll put the last ring on Lambert's finger.

“And finally,” Lambert declares grandly, “I give myself to the both of you as a husband to be loved and treasured, until death do us apart.”

He puts the ring on his own finger and tugs the Cat and the Griffin towards him. And then Eskel witnesses the most ridiculous kiss ever. The three of them surge forwards, put their heads together and Lambert's husbands go for the Wolf's mouth at the same time. He then sees some open mouths, a lot of tongue and spit. Loud kissing noises resonate in the kitchen. Eskel quickly avert his eyes because he doesn't need to see _that_ , and Ciri makes a disgusted sound at his side.

“Is the gross kissing really an obligation ?”, she whines and Eskel puts his body between her and the three shameless witchers.

“Lambert !”, Geralt finally growls when they don't seem to be in a hurry to stop, “LAMBERT ! Kid and brothers in the room !”

They finally break their kiss and look so in love with each other that Eskel is almost jealous of their relationship.

“Congratulations !”, Yennefer says in a mocking tone and raises her wine glass at them.

“You know,” Jaskier says, “I'm pretty sure there's a bawdy song somewhere just waiting to be written about you three.”

“Don't you dare !”, Lambert says and points a threatening finger at him.

“Well,” Coën then says and clears his throat, “It was a lovely ceremony and we'll come back down to eat later. We have some... unfinished business to take care of first.”

And the Griffin then grips Lambert's and Aiden's hands and tugs them out of the kitchen, probably towards Lambert's room. Eskel hopes he'll be able to sleep tonight.

“Thank Melitele,” Eskel whispers after their departure, “Geralt ? You okay ?”

His brother is brooding silently and glaring at the door like it personally offended him.

“Geralt ?”, Ciri asks too and gets up to go hug him.

Geralt hugs his daughter back and strokes her hair.

“I'm sorry Ciri, they should be more careful around you. I'll make them pay for the trauma.”

“Don't worry,” Ciri says and pats him on the shoulder, “Like I said, I unfortunately already saw it all.”

Geralt growls at that and catches Eskel's eye.

“Tomorrow at dawn. Lambert, you and me in the training yard.”

“Oh, yes,” Eskel agrees with a smirk, “We'll destroy him !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we end with an Eskel POV piece because I felt bad about the way I treated him :p
> 
> Again, thank you for all of your support!!  
> Have a nice week-end!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post new chapters as they come but it won't be regular.
> 
> I'll update the tags with each new drabble too!  
> See you soon.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How Lambert met his Husbands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25421236) by [WitcherSexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitcherSexual/pseuds/WitcherSexual)




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